


Saving the World

by stellar_dust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beer, Gen, Global Warming, POV Second Person, Season/Series 14, Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 01:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellar_dust/pseuds/stellar_dust
Summary: Michael's gone, for the moment, and the bunker's full of hunters from the other universe. Sam and Dean take a breath, and share a beer.





	Saving the World

Dean finds you, late at night, squinting at your laptop with your legs stretched out under the kitchen table. He takes his own seat, passes you an open beer, says “hey,” and the two of you clink bottles.

“Mmm. Thanks.” You take a drink. It's nice and cold, a good local microbrew, and you can seriously use the break. You've been working on this duty roster spreadsheet for hours now, and you push it away gratefully, giving your neck and shoulders a good solid stretch. “What’s up, dude?”

“Nothing.” Dean shrugs. “Just wanted to say thanks.”

You gulp at your beer and raise your eyebrows. Can't think of anything in particular you've done for Dean recently. This is either going to be good, or terrible. "What for?"

“You know - “ Dean gestures to the laptop. “All this. I’ve been, uh, checked out -- and you’re organizing shit, wrangling people, getting everyone settled, teaching the kids. You’re a good leader, Sam. Natural. Always have been." 

Dean fidgets, and you swallow around a lump in your throat. You stepped up because you had to, but you never really thought Dean would notice. 

Dean goes on. “I figure if you’d stayed in school, done your environmental lawyering or whatever, you’d probably have solved global warming by now. Saved the world.”

You pick at the label of your beer. Something warm’s spreading through you, and you're finding it hard to look at Dean right now, because there's a part of you that still craves your brother’s approval (and probably, dammit, always will), of the choices you've made and the way you'd prefer to have lived your life. Even more so for all that Dean’s never once, in almost two decades, said a single positive word about Stanford. You didn't even realize he'd known your major.

Hell of a lot of water under the bridge since then, though. Literally.

“Huh. Well.” You smile, and finally look up at Dean, who's been tossing his own bottle from hand to hand. “It’s just too bad I’ve had no other opportunities, at all, for saving the world.”

Dean lets his breath out in a laugh and flicks you in the shoulder. “Shut up. Bitch.”

"Jerk." You grin, and lean back in your chair, crossing your feet on the table. "To us," you say, tilting your half-empty bottle in Dean's direction. "And saving the world."

“Yeah.” Dean smiles, and your bottles clink together again. “To us.”

You drink, and you laugh, and you don't know what's coming tomorrow, but you'll face it together. And for just one moment, in this small corner of the bunker, all’s right with the world.


End file.
